


It Need Not Follow

by angelsandbrowncoats



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Crack, First Meetings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I mean don't we all?, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, attempted child abduction, got a little bit of everything, jason commits aggravated assault and roy loves him for it, no capes AU, shamelessly projecting my academic opinions on fictional characters like usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27522544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Jason enjoys privacy in his life: his apartment, his workouts, his quiet nights at the park. But when he temporarily sets his privacy aside to help a child in trouble, he is not prepared for the consequences, neither immediate nor long-term. Waking up to a very pretty and very concerned face hovering over him, his back aching from its impact against the ground, Jason can't help but hope that those consequences don't necessarily have to be bad. Maybe he doesn't mind sharing (his space, his heart, his life) after all, so long as it's with the right person.
Relationships: Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Comments: 18
Kudos: 209





	It Need Not Follow

**Author's Note:**

> What are alternate universes besides ways for me to practice writing characters whose characterization I'm not fully confident with yet? (who am I kidding, I love AUs) I mostly wrote this bc 95% of my jayroy ideas are multi-chapter extravaganzas and last night I wanted to write something I could finish in under 24 hours, so I went back to my classic "first meeting in an AU" trope!
> 
> Title is a loose reference to Pride and Prejudice bc I initially had "But it need not follow that the consequences must be unwelcome" in the summary but it got lost in the edits
> 
> Warning: there is an attempted kidnapping of a child, and a fairly graphic depiction of Jason's assault on the kidnapper (I guess? idk I write a wide range of violence idk where the line between mild and major graphic violence lies). That said, this fic is more fluff than anything else
> 
> Enjoy!

Being a Wayne meant Jason didn’t have to spend even his first year of college in the dorms. It helped that he was a few years older than a traditional first year, but it was Bruce’s cash that had gotten him out of needing a roommate. He appreciated that fact, as he valued his privacy and personal space above all else. When he’d spent years of his life feeling vulnerable without solid walls around him, without a guarantee that when he fell asleep he wouldn’t wake up to someone forcing him back onto the streets or (worse) into the system… having not just his own home but his own _room_ had seemed like a greater luxury than every other piece of Wayne Manor combined. And while Jason was more than ready to strike out on his own, having that privacy maintained was of the utmost comfort to him, a little slice of heaven on earth. 

His apartment was simple, but perfect. The kitchen was large enough for proper baking, the living area was small but contained enough space if a few of his siblings dropped by or (Jason doubted) he ever acquired friends to entertain. His bedroom and adjoining bathroom were comfortable, and the apartment came with a garage that had more than enough space for his boxing equipment given he kept a motorcycle rather than a car. He knew – because Dick had told him – that maintaining a lifestyle where he could do everything from the comfort of his own home was not particularly good for his social life, but he didn’t care. Working out at the gym made him self-conscious; was he too big? Too intimidating? Too scarred? Or just not good enough?  Did people recognize him?  He hated the feeling that people were looking at him,  _judging_ him. And hey, he’d gotten used to the privacy of a five-star home gym. 

Stationary cardio, however, was the bane of his existence, so he would go to  one of the park s nearby his apartment to jog at least once most days. His favorite park consisted primarily of wooded paths, so between that and the hoodie he wore  ( except on the very hottest of days ) , he felt more secure. 

The park was also quite beautiful, which he appreciated. If he ran in the evening, as he was doing that day, he liked to stop at a particular bench in one of the most densely wooded areas of the park and watch the sunset before turning back and heading home. The fall colors were out in full force, he noted, enjoying the way the glow from the orange and pink sky caused the yellow leaves to shimmer like gold and the red ones to flicker like flames. Struck by a particularly dramatic tree, Jason took out his phone and snapped a photo, sending it to Tim with the caption  _“Five Years in the Making: A Story of Revenge”_ and then underneath that  _“I’m replacing you as the best photographer in this family.”_

Barely three seconds later, Tim replied,  _“Aww, u think im a good photographer? Thats so sweet of you”_

Jason stared at the opposing “u” and “you” and shook his head. Tim was such a weirdo.

He  pulled up his  phone’s  keyboard to tell him as much, when his attention was diverted by a high-pitched shriek in the woods nearby.

“Let go of me! You’re not friends with my daddy! I know you’re not!”

Jason’s head snapped up, trying to pinpoint the exact direction of the voice. That was a kid, probably a young one. Fuck.

“Shut up, kid,” a more hushed and _much_ older voice replied, “Your daddy’ll be real upset you gave me so much trouble.”

“No he won’t!” the girl yelled back, followed by a thud and a muffled curse from the man. Jason was already on his feet, heading straight towards the sounds as the girl continued, “He told me if any strangers try to get me to go with them, I hit ‘em _real_ hard.”

Jason would smile, if he wasn’t so worried. He  would like this kid’s dad,  he thought . 

“Yeah, well, I told you, I’m not a stranger.”

Jason rounded a particularly dense cluster of trees to see a tall man holding onto the arm of a little girl. He wasn’t good at judging ages, but she was definitely younger than Damian. The rage that felt as familiar as home descended over his vision and he stalked over to the pair. The guy had some muscles, but nothing compared to Jason’s bulk, so even if he hadn’t been consumed with fury, he wouldn’t have been all that worried. Better yet, he was approaching from the woods that the man was clearly trying to use as cover, so he was behind them.

“I believe the lady said she didn’t want to go with you, so why don’t you take a fucking step back?” he growled, grabbing the guy’s shoulder and yanking it back. The man stumbled, eyes wide as he turned to see Jason. Well, given the position of the sun, he probably just saw the monstrous silhouette descending upon him from the trees, a thought which made Jason grin. Jason knew how to grin in a charming way, he’d been in the public eye enough times as the new ward-then-son of Bruce fucking Wayne. He knew how to grin in a way that promised chaos and mischief and fun and adventure. He also knew how to stretch a smile so wide and with so many teeth it reminded the viewer that beneath all that flesh was a skull, just like their own. What are men but skin and bones, muscle and blood? For some unfathomable reason, this reminder tended to freak people out.

Case in point, the man that stood before him had begun to tremble, ever so slightly, as the light from a nearby lamp glinted off the canines that Jason  _may_ have – while rebelliously drunk in his junior year – had sharpened. He  recalled Tim once swearing that the green in his eyes could glow in certain light, and he hoped it was happening then. He might be a monster in his own mind, but he  _wanted_ to be a monster in this guy’s. A monster crawled from the depths of the forest to eat the huntsman and save Little Red from his clutches. In amusement, he noticed that the girl really  _was_ wearing a red jacket. He doubted the man would find it so funny. 

_Good_ . 

“Hey – hey man,” the man held up his hands, “I wasn’t doing anything, I swear!”

“Is that so?” Jason said with an undercurrent of a snarl, turning to look at the girl, “Was he doing anything?”

Her eyes were wide, as well, as she watched him, but she seemed almost more fascinated than scared. He didn’t fucking understand kids. (That was a lie. Jason remembered exactly how much of an idiotic thrill-seeker he’d been in his youth. In many ways, he still was one.)

After a moment, though, the girl nodded and said, “He’s a dirty liar! He told me he was friends with my daddy but he’s  _not!_ And he told me Daddy sent him to pick me up, which is  _bullshit_ .”

A choke broke through Jason’s rage for just a moment as he processed this little girl’s vocabulary, before he fell back into his brawling mindset.  Her accusation had given him an idea.

He grabbed the man by the throat, lifting him up and slamming him against a particularly big oak nearby, enjoying the way his legs kicked out, looking for purchase against the bark. With a knee, he landed a sharp hit to the guy’s balls which – given by the choked groan of pain – landed perfectly. Leaning close, he said, “Are you a liar?”

“No!” the guy shouted as best he could with barely any air, “Help! Somebody help!”

Jason slammed his free hand across the guy’s mouth and growled, “Wrong answer,” before kneeing him again.  He let the guy slide down the tree, keeping him pinned but no longer suspended in the air; he had enough presence of mind to know  he shouldn’t s traight up murder the man. His grip on the man’s throat tightened, however, as he repeated his question, “Are. You. A. Liar.”

“Yes, okay? Yes! I lied,” the man croaked, “I thought she was alone! I thought she was homeless. I didn’t know she had parents. She was just here by herself! I wouldn’t have even tried if I thought she was gonna start talking about her dad. I didn’t know you were here!”

Jason barely registered the implication that  _he_ was this girl’s father as his vision tunneled. He landed a solid punch to the guy’s face and heard the  _crack_ of bone. 

“So you thought it’d be fine if she were an orphan?”

He punched again, and this time he felt the skin of his own knuckles break, but he didn’t care. This fucker deserved to  _die_ but if all Jason could reasonably do was ruin his life, well… it wasn’t like getting injured ha d ever mattered to him anyway. At least this time it was  for a noble cause.

“No?” the guy tried.

“You’re getting better at this,” Jason said _almost_ pleasantly before bringing his elbow down, jabbing directly against the guy’s ear. He reveled in the sounds of pain that followed. 

“You know,” he said, hauling the man up when his knees began to give out, “ _I_ was a homeless orphan, once upon a time. So I know _exactly_ what kind of filth you are. They say fire is cleansing… you’d better hope that’s true.”

And then without further preamble, Jason flicked the lighter he’d pulled from his pocket and lit the guy’s pants, right at the crotch.

“Liar, liar,” he said as if explaining a very simple concept to the man. The guy let out a hoarse shriek that was lost under the far-too-cheerful, “Pants on fire!” from the girl at his side before Jason clocked him one more time in the head and knocked him out. He was careful to keep the flames away from any leaves on the ground, and – when he figured enough damage had been done – stomped them out. Literally. He could only lament that he was wearing running shoes and not the heavier combat boots he wore when not jogging.

As his rage faded, the regret began to sink in. Fuck. He should not have gone so far in front of a  _kid_ . She’d probably be  _traumatized_ . With his own wide-eyed apprehension, he turned to look at the little girl. She was staring back at him with something that could only be described as  _awe_ , except that didn’t make any sense.

“You’re _so_ badass,” she told him before her awe faded into a more petulant frown and she crossed her arms, “But I coulda took him.”

“Taken,” he said on instinct. She blinked.

“You could have _taken_ him,” he explained, before adding, “But while I commend your spirit, I’m not sure you could have.”

“I could too!” she protested, then, “What’s _commend?_ ”

“Praise,” Jason tried, “Think highly of. Applaud.”

“Oh,” she seemed taken aback by his compliment, growing suddenly more shy, “Thanks.”

“Did he hurt you at all?” Jason asked, remembering that this was _not_ one of his many younger siblings which meant she probably _wasn’t_ used to fighting and he had an actual responsibility here. 

She shook her head, “Well, I think I’m gonna get a bruise where he grabbed me, but I did worse to him!”

“I heard,” Jason told her, and let himself actually smile this time, “Is your dad going to be here soon? It’s getting dark.”

The proud look on the girl’s face twisted into a sad frown, “I – I’m not sure. We were here together, but I saw this really pretty bird – it was  _super_ pretty! And I tried to follow it, and then the next thing I knew my dad was gone! I – I don’t know where I am,” fuck she looked like she was about to cry, “I mean I know I’m at the park, but I don’t think I’ve ever been here before. At least not at night. Is – is it okay if I’m a little scared?”

Jason swallowed. Bruce had said before that Jason was good with kids, but he wasn’t sure he really believed that.  _She_ was scared? Well he was fucking terrified! He was a twenty-two year old who  occasionally still snuck  out to shady cage fights because he just never could quite give up the rush of a brawl. He wasn’t  _responsible_ . 

“Yeah, shit – I mean, fuck, I mean, crap? – kid, it would be weirder if you weren’t. But it’s okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll help you find your dad. If you like,” he said. Nailed it.

He also wasn’t sure what he’d do if she declined his help. He _was_ pretty scary, he knew that, but also… he couldn’t just leave a little kid alone in the woods, could he? Even if she was scared of him? Why couldn’t it have been Dick who’d run into this? Or Duke? Or Cass? They were great at getting people to like them! She wouldn’t have been scared of _them_ . 

“Okay!” she nodded, breaking him out of his thoughts, “Are you my guardian? Like a spirit from the forest watching over me or something?”

“Uh, no,” Jason said, “I’m Jason.”

“Oh,” she frowned, before shrugging, “That’s cool, too.”

“Thanks?” Jason was _so_ not prepared for this, “So… what does your dad look like?”

“Red,” she answered, somewhat unhelpfully.

“Red?”

“Mhmm, lots of it! He says it makes him real easy to spot, like a bullseye!”

“So he wears red?” Jason tried to understand, and the girl nodded, “Yep. And also his hair. Except it’s really orange, but he calls it red.”

“That’s because orange wasn’t invented until the 1500s,” Jason said absentmindedly, “The color, not the fruit.”

“What?” the girl furrowed her brows, presumably never having considered the possibility of _inventing_ a color before.

“Lots of orange things are called red because they were named before the word orange existed, so the closest color was red. It’s the same with robins. You see that kind of thing in old poetry all the time.”

“Okay,” she said very seriously, and Jason wondered if she was going to be repeating that to her classmates in the future in an attempt to appear smarter. He had done a lot of posturing of that sort after becoming a Wayne; nothing felt quite so good as outsmarting the spoiled bullies calling him _street rat_. 

“Alright, so red,” he repeated, “Anything else?”

“Angels like to kiss him,” she told him. It was Jason’s turn to feel lost. Was that a weird way for this kid to say her dad was a player? 

“That’s what he says, anyway,” she explained, “He’s got these cool dots all over, and if he forgets to bring my coloring book when we go somewhere boring, he’ll give me a marker and let me connect them in fun shapes!”

_Oh._ Jason felt like an idiot.

“He has freckles.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, “I think he called them that once.”

“Okay, well do you remember where you were when you wandered away? Or where you first entered the park?”

The girl shook her head, looking sad again, so Jason quickly said, “Did you come by car?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so why don’t we go that way,” he pointed down one of the paths he recognized, “So we can get to the parking lot.”

The girl reached for his hand and he took hers instinctively before staring down at her in shock. She didn’t seem to notice, already heading in the direction he pointed. When they found her dad, he was going to have a talk with the guy about how she shouldn’t trust a stranger just because he attacked a  _different_ stranger for her. 

After a few minutes, the girl’s steps began to slow and Jason realized it had gotten fully dark. Shit. She was young, was this like her bedtime? Fuck.

“We’re almost there,” he offered in his best attempt at cheerfulness, hoping she wouldn’t fade too fast on him.

“Oh you’re _there_ , asshole,” a voice snarled, closer to his ear than he appreciated, and he turned as the man continued, “Now get the _fuck_ away from my daughter.”

Jason glimpsed bright red hair from under an even brighter red cap and had enough time to think  _fuck, those_ _**arms** _ before a fist connected expertly with his skull and his eyes rolled back. The last thing he heard was that high-pitched voice that had started the whole thing yelling, “Daddy, no!”

~  ~ ~

Jason had woken up from being knocked unconscious many times in his life. Only once had that been in a hospital, having been on the brink of death after his opponent in the ring had lost all control and given him the worst beating of his life. He was fairly used to waking up on the floor or the street, getting his bearings quickly in case his life was once more on the line.

He was less used to waking up with a very pretty and very concerned face hovering over him. Okay so that wasn’t  _ entirely _ true – half his family held titles of national attractiveness and they were  _ always _ worried, but they didn’t fucking count. Jason would much prefer this handsome stranger over his brothers’ mugs any day. 

“Oh thank goodness,” the man was saying as he registered that Jason was conscious, “I’m so sorry, man!”

Jason blinked a few times, groaning as he felt pain in his back and, of course, knuckles. He felt like he was lying on a… tree root? Within seconds, his brain had caught up to his body and he remembered what had happened. His eyes darted around until he caught sight of the girl, partially hidden behind her presumed father where he knelt at Jason’s side.

“I guess we found your dad,” he managed to say, still feeling a bit winded from his impromptu date with the ground. Said dad looked even more contrite at this, wringing his hands as he told Jason, “I really am sorry. Lian explained how you helped her, but I thought… I heard her shout, awhile back, and I was already looking for her, but this damn park is so big and I…”

“It’s fine,” Jason said, pushing himself upright so he was more or less level with the hot dad who had decked him.

“It’s really not,” he tried, but Jason cut him off, “I’m used to it, really. Honestly it’s nice to wake up to an apology instead of a crowd of angry people who just lost their bets on you.”

The man blinked, and if Jason had been less perceptive he would have missed the way his eyes flickered over Jason’s physique before locking back on his own, “You’re a brawler?”

“Not much, not anymore,” he admitted, “But I still train.”

“Jason is _so_ badass,” the girl – Lian, apparently – backed him up. Jason couldn’t help a small smile at her vote of confidence. Her father smiled as well, and said, “From what I hear, I should be _thanking_ you as well as apologizing.”

“Not really,” Jason looked away, unable to deal with the emotion in the other man’s eyes, “It’s not like I could just _not_ intervene.”

“I mean you definitely could have decided not to intervene,” the man told him, “But I’m really glad you did,” his eyes raked over Jason again, much more deliberately this time, “And I’m glad _you_ did.”

Jason swallowed. He knew adoptive families didn’t work that way, but he was pretty sure Dick had gotten all of the flirting gene, leaving none for the rest of them. He liked to imagine he could be smooth, would fantasize about sweeping his latest fancy off their feet with his presence and personality alone, but the lines that sounded so good in his head fell wooden from his lips.

“I’m Roy, by the way,” the man said, holding out a hand. It felt ridiculous, shaking hands while seated on the ground outside with Roy kneeling across from him, but if Jason was totally honest with himself, he was more than happy for the excuse to touch the hand attached to those powerful arms. His gaze caught on the tattoos weaving across pale, freckled skin like melodies trapped on a living canvas. Fuck. Jason struggled to corral his thoughts into something more defined, but it was to no avail. All he could think was _fuck_. 

At least it was a good sort of  _ fuck _ . 

Roy’s hand felt powerful beneath his, palm soft but fingers harshly calloused. Jason added another  _ fuck _ to the quickly growing list of features Roy possessed that caused his heart to pound harder than the post knock-out headache. 

“Jason,” he remembered to say, even though Lian had already called him that. Roy presumably knew this, as he flashed Jason a wide, crooked grin that added yet more to his list. Jason’s hand still clasped in his, Roy clambered to his feet, pulling Jason up with him. Before Jason could register what was happening, Roy’s hands were on him, brushing over the leather of his jacket, the sweatshirt hood that had fallen off his head, one reaching up to pluck something from the loose curls of his hair while the other dipped dangerously low down his back for a fraction of a second before they both vanished. Jason felt frozen, trapped by the teasing glint in Roy’s eyes as he surveyed his handiwork.

“Good as new,” Roy declared, reaching out to brush one last invisible speck of dirt from Jason’s collar, knuckles ghosting against his jaw, “Now I was wondering, do you have anywhere you need to be? Because if not, it’s really the least I could do to bandage up those knuckles for you and buy you an apology coffee.”

“I,” Jason’s brain had yet to come back online, “I don’t have anywhere to be. But you don’t…”

“Perfect! We’ve got band-aids in the car.”

“… have to do anything…”

“If you don’t mind superhero ones, that is.”

“…for me.”

Either Roy hadn’t heard his halfhearted  objections or he had chosen to ignore them, because he was still looking at Jason expectantly. Jason nervously scratched at the spot beneath his ear, just behind his jaw, before nodding in defeat. 

“Great!” Roy was undeterred by Jason’s poor communication skills, “I’m parked just a little ahead, but from what Lian told me, you already knew that.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, cursing his lack of eloquence.

“Maybe you should join us, next time,” Roy continued like it was nothing, “I just found this place like a week ago and I’m still not very familiar with it.”

As he talked, he scooped Lian into his arms – she looked asleep on her feet and was soon softly snoring on his shoulder. Jason knew how much adrenaline could wear a person out, especially when they weren’t used to it. Hopefully the exhaustion would help her to avoid any nightmares the danger and subsequent assault she had witnessed might induce. Jason followed, unsure if Roy’s chatter was a legitimate offer which warranted a response or just something idle to say while they finished their journey.

Within minutes, the warm glow of the tall lamps surrounding the parking lot  materialized in front of them, and Jason found himself steered towards a bright red sedan that – to Jason’s decent but still limited knowledge – appeared to have a few custom modifications. Lian woke briefly as Roy strapped her into the car seat in the back, but was asleep again almost immediately.

“C’mon,” Roy opened the passenger side door, pulling a bag from the glove compartment before gesturing for Jason to take a seat. He complied, keeping his feet on the pavement as Roy rifled through the bag, pulling out everything from candy bars to sunscreen to what looked like the world’s most deranged pez container. At last, with an, “Aha!” Roy triumphantly held up a slightly mangled box of band-aids. True to his word, there were little superhero symbols on the box.

“Any preferences?” Roy asked with a teasing grin, to which Jason immediately replied, “Wonder Woman. Duh. She’s the best.”

Roy laughed at that, and Jason felt a flush creep across his face despite the matching warmth in his heart. His laugh was beautiful, Jason thought, he just wished it hadn’t been directed at him.

“A man who knows his mind and isn’t afraid to say it,” Roy grinned, and maybe he hadn’t been laughing _at_ him, “I like that.”

Before Jason could think of a response – and, alright, it probably would have taken him a few minutes – Roy had caught his hand again and Jason felt pinned to the spot once more. With a gentleness that felt so foreign to those scar-covered hands, Roy  lightly swiped a disposable disinfectant cloth across the back  of each before carefully adhering bandages to each split knuckle.  In the close proximity,  Jason saw faint red marker scrawled across his wrist, turning freckles into points on a star, a heart, a smiley face.  When the last  band-aid was settled in place,  Roy swiftly brought Jason’s injured hand up, pressing the faintest kiss to it before letting it drop. At Jason’s stare, he winked, “ Had to kiss it better.”

Jason gulped. Roy’s deft fingers had felt his quickened pulse at the contact, he knew they had. His brain screamed embarrassment at him, but under  Roy’s soft gaze,  his strong smile, backlit by glowing orange,  Jason’s anxieties failed . He was being watched, being  _ seen _ , everything he hated about public places, yet Roy’s easy  flirtation flowed over him, immersing him in serene security. 

“So about that coffee?”

Jason blinked, feeling Roy’s single step backwards like a cold draft cutting through a fire’s warmth, “Oh, um. Sure.”

“Want to follow in your car? Or I could just drop you back off here after?”

He shook his head, “I walked.”

“Oh, okay,” Roy nodded, “I could drop you off at your place afterwards, then, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Jason said again, pulling his legs into the car so Roy could close the door. When Roy slid into the driver’s seat beside him, he reached across Jason’s lap to return the bag to the glove compartment, once again disregarding standard measures of personal space with a daring smile that cut down all of Jason’s reservations like they were nothing. Jason kept his eyes away from Roy and noticed an obsidian arrowhead dangling from the rear view mirror. He frowned at it.

“What?” Roy asked when he saw where Jason was looking.

Jason shook his head, “Sorry. I just read an article for one of my classes about the issues with collecting arrowheads. I didn’t mean to judge or anything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roy smiled, “It’s not an artifact, it’s an art piece. I like it because it’s a good bridge between the major chapters of my life. I got it while I was still living on the reservation, but it fits with everything that came after, too. I can hook you up with some great indigenous artists, if you like it.”

“Oh,” Jason blinked, “Um. Maybe. That could be cool.”

Before he knew it, they were pulling into the parking lot of a small cafe, the sort of place that could feel like  _ home _ even to people who didn’t quite know what that word meant. The chairs were well-worn and yet more comfortable than half the seats in Wayne Manor, warm lights twinkling overhead like stars while the hypnotic scent of freshly baked cookies enveloped the customers and drifted out to passersby.  A bell chimed a low and pleasing note as Roy, once more holding a sleepy Lian, held it open for Jason to enter. 

“What would you like?” Roy asked as he headed for the counter. Jason shrugged before looking over the menu and saying, “English Breakfast.”

“Oh, you should have said you were a tea person,” Roy lamented, “There’s a tea shop down the block from me that I’ve been looking for an excuse to visit.”

Jason wasn’t given an opportunity to respond to this, either, as Roy stepped up to the counter and ordered his tea alongside a hot chocolate, a coffee with enough sugar to please Dick, and a half-dozen chocolate-chip cookies. They staked out a table near the corner but against a window, and Jason slid into the plush chair across from Roy while Lian blinked herself awake enough to cheer over the miniature marshmallows in her cocoa. The cookie Roy handed her definitely helped her keep her eyes open.

“So Jason,” Roy began after taking a long sip of his coffee monstrosity, “Besides cage fighting and rescuing small children, what do you typically spend your time doing?”

There was something about the question, a  _ normalcy _ that conflicted with the everything that had led to their meeting, that made Jason snort. 

“Well, I’m a lit major,” he offered in spite of his amusement, “I want to focus my research on the representation of poverty in classic literature and the power of autonomous voices.”

“The what?” Roy asked, but the way he smiled over his mug let Jason know he didn’t really care the impromptu lesson.

“Most classic literature wasn’t written by the poor, but a lot of it deals with poverty,” he explained, “I want to explore why middle- and upper-class writers shouldn’t necessarily be considered voices for the poor. Or why it’s important for people to have their own voices in classic literature. It’s kind of rich to teach certain novels like they’re more fact than fiction, especially across class lines. I mean, I love Jane Austen with all of my heart but her concept of being _poor_ is kinda laughable, you know? Oh, man, we only have two servants, the horror! And sure, way more people back then _did_ keep servants, and okay, I’m usually paying more attention to Elinor’s pining than her financial situation, but its still an integral part of the novel! Like, oh, I’m sorry, if _you’re_ poor, then what does that make your servants? Or the people living in the streets and prisons? Not to mention, the very on-point silence on violently colonized populations when addressing the military, or… Sorry,” Jason trailed off as he finally noticed the bright glint of laughter in Roy’s eyes. 

“Not at all,” Roy told him, suppressed laughter leaking into his tone, “You’re cute.”

Jason’s brain record-scratched again, but at least this time he had a mug of tea to hide in.

“So a college student?” Roy asked when it became evident that Jason wasn’t going to continue, “Brains _and_ brawn? Impressive. I’m a mechanic myself, freelance. You might have noticed the fun upgrades to my second favorite lady,” he gestured through the window towards where his car was parked, “Went for an engineering degree but never managed to crack the whole college thing. I could never motivate myself to finish _their_ projects when my own were so much cooler. Not to mention, I was a bit of a party animal, back in the day.”

“Yeah, that hat does kinda make you look like a frat boy,” Jason muttered, and Roy gasped in mock offense, “I’ll have you know this hat scored me two separate dates. Possibly three.”

“Possibly?” Jason asked, “How can there be a possibly?”

“Well, the third one depends on if you’re really just here for my apology or if you’re here because you couldn’t resist the hat.”

“I can definitely resist the hat,” Jason informed him, the familiar feeling of being wooden-tongued returning as Roy actually deflated slightly at his comment. Let it never be said, though, that Roy was anything but persistent to the point of incorrigibility as he replied, “That doesn’t necessarily mean you’re _just_ here for my apology, though.”

“True,” Jason acknowledged, feeling better as Roy’s smile returned in full force. 

“Well, ill-advised college exploits aside, I also practice archery in my rare moment of spare time. Any other fun hobbies yourself, or just beating the living daylights out of random creeps in parks?”

“I dunno,” Jason shrugged, “I like to cook, I guess.”

“ _Damn_ , Jay,” Roy was looking at him with a sort of intensity that had Jason understanding the full meaning of ‘butterflies in his stomach’.

“What?”

“Strong, smart, handsome as hell, _and_ you can cook? Who created you and how did they get their hands on that personal ad I was too much of a coward to publish?”

Jason clutched his warm mug, allowing himself the allusion that the heat under his skin was due to steam as he asked, “You still use personal ads? That sounds like something only Alfie would read.”

“Who’s Alfie?”

“My,” Jason began before realizing how it might sound to follow it with _family’s butler_ after his earlier rant about poverty and changed gears to, “grandfather. More or less.”

“Sounds like he has good taste.”

“He does,” Jason admitted. He’d backed himself into that one.

Despite the sugar, the warm milk of the cocoa had made Lian even sleepier once she was finished with it. Once Jason and Roy had finished their own drinks, Roy reiterated his offer to drop Jason off at his apartment, and Jason was too content (and unwilling to end the evening) to refuse.

When Roy pulled up in front of Jason’s apartment building, he stopped Jason from getting out immediately with a hand on his arm. Jason looked over at him and saw the bag with the remaining three cookies extended towards him.

“For you,” Roy insisted, “I’m really glad I met you, and I really am sorry about the whole mix-up/knocking you out situation.”

“Thanks,” Jason said, hesitantly taking the paper bag.

“Thank _you_ , for keeping her safe,” Roy returned, much more serious than he’d been most of the evening, “If you’ll let me, I’d be more than happy to take you for that specialty tea as a real thank-you, any time you like.”

“That sounds nice,” Jason gave a small smile, one he hoped Roy would see for what it was, and exited the car, “Have a good night. Both of you.”

“Sweet dreams,” Roy said with a wink, just as the door closed. Jason was left on his doorstep, heart pounding against his ribs once more. It was only when he was at the top of the flight of stairs leading to his door that it stopped, sinking in the realization that he would most likely never see Roy again. _Fuck_.

This time, the word in question wasn’t a particularly positive  _ fuck _ .

He was stupid to have believed Roy genuinely meant his flirtation. It was probably just in his nature. Jason took a breath to let the resignation settle before he pulled open his door only to be met with a clatter.

Jason let himself groan in despair as he saw Dick frozen in an implausible position, twisting in midair over a fallen container of cereal, perched on his chair with only one foot.

“Hey, Jason!” Dick grinned at him, leaping soundlessly from his spot and scooping up the rubber-sealed plastic container he had, evidently, been struggling with.

“It’s just a latch, Dickhead,” Jason told him, closing the door and walking over to flick the catch that released the seal, “Keeps it from going stale.”

“You know what else keeps it from going stale?” Dick asked, pouring himself a bowl, “Eating it.”

Jason rolled his eyes. He wasn’t about to tell his brother that the only reason he even kept cereal around was for his visits. Dick never bothered to inform him when he was showing up, which meant that he often managed to arrive while Jason was out. It was a sort of unspoken agreement that Dick would, in his boredom, resort to snacking first and snooping second when left to his own devices in one of his siblings’ homes. If Jason wanted him to stay out of his business, he could expect to pay the price of some snacks. If Jason elected to stock Dick’s preferred snacks, well… no one ever needed to know that, especially no one in his family. 

“You were out late,” Dick noted, “Had a fun evening?”

“A blast,” Jason told him, reaching into his pocket and tossing Dick the wallet he’d nicked off the guy from the park. Dick snatched it out of the air, examining it with interest, “Where’d you find this?”

“In the pocket of a guy trying to snatch homeless kids at the park,” Jason told him.

“What, you just pick-pocketed the guy?”

“I might have.”

Dick gave him a look, “You do anything else to him?”

“I might have,” Jason said again, unable to fight down a sharp-edged smile, “Figured you could do something about him with that.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, man, you’re the fucking cop.”

“Doesn’t that mean I should be doing something about _you?_ ” Dick asked with a smirk. Jason rolled his eyes again, “You got nothing on me.”

Dick’s eyes dropped to his  bloodied  hands, eyebrows climbing at the Wonder Woman band-aids, “Well  _ you’ve _ got something on you. Where’d you get those?”

“Thank you from the kid’s dad,” Jason shrugged. Dick examined him closer, noticing the large bruise beginning to form near his temple. He let out a low whistle, “Damn, how strong was this guy? You don’t usually take hits like that.”

“That was _also_ a thank you from the kid’s dad,” Jason snorted, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ll bet,” Dick grimaced, “Good thing it’s me here and not Bruce. He’d be mother-henning the crap out of you right now.”

“I’m honestly just thanking my lucky stars that you’re not doing that yet,” Jason said dryly.

“We all need breaks from being the responsible one, you know,” Dick shrugged, “Besides, I spy something that looks suspiciously like cookies, and I want in. I can smother you with affection after you’ve given up your bargaining chip.”

“Well now I’m _so_ likely to give you one.”

“You know,” Dick began and Jason felt trouble in the air, “I recently read a really good argument that Shakespeare didn’t write his own plays.”

Jason wasn’t quite sure what happened next, but about a minute later his consciousness resurfaced in the middle of his mouth saying, “ _ and those classist motherfuckers _ ,” to find Dick gleefully holding his bag of cookies at the other side of the room. He pulled one out and shoved half of it in his mouth at once, waving the bag like a taunt as he leapt onto Jason’s couch. Jason made a feint at him, only to be surprised when his shove actually connected. Dick toppled backwards, eyes locked on the bag of cookies as he managed to find his balanced without slamming into the floor. 

He swallowed the half-cookie he’d eaten and turned to Jason with a grin that promised even more trouble.

“Hey, Jay? Why is there a phone number on this bag with a little ‘x’ under it?”

Jason snatched for the bag, but Dick danced back, still looking at it, “And why does it look so familiar?”

Jason managed to grab it on his second attempt, heart thudding wildly as he saw the scrawl in the same red marker  that Lian had  used to trace o ver Roy’s  freckles . Dick had pulled out his phone and was frowning at something, coming over to  peer over Jason’s shoulder before asking, “Why do you have Roy Harper’s phone number on your cookies?”

He didn’t answer his brother, though, too busy pulling out his phone and typing in the number, before sending a text.

_Hi. This is Jason._

Almost immediately, he got a response.

_oh hell yeah  
_ _i was starting to think u wouldn’t text  
_ _i would have been sad :’(_

_Sorry. I didn’t notice the number. Also I think you know my brother._

_idk whos ur brother_

_Dick Grayson. He’s one of them, anyway._

_oh shit! small world  
_ _tell him i say hi  
_ _actually no tell him fuck u  
_ _he owes me big rn  
_ _ not important  
_ _also ur still down for that tea date right?_  
_just say the word and im urs bby  
_ _by word i mean date and time btw_

Jason dodged Dick’s attempt to steal his phone, smiling as he thought over his calendar and sent a reply. Despite Roy’s unfortunate choice in friends, he had a good feeling about this.

~ ~ ~

Almost two years later, Jason let the lease on his apartment expire. He loved his privacy, his personal space, but – as he moved the last of his boxes into Roy’s two-bedroom apartment, Lian’s drawings scrawled across them, Roy holding him in those arms, sweet kisses distracting him from the task at hand – Jason decided that maybe sharing his space, his heart, his _life_ could be it’s own kind of heaven, too.

**Author's Note:**

> [Support indigenous artists](http://www.beyondbuckskin.com/p/buy-native.html)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! It feels good to write something short again


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